Personal Narrative: My Way To Imperial Middle School

Start of wield practices. We were passing kicking you know the basic stuff to get ready for the soccer game. We need to try are best to win the game to go up the ladder to go the finals and win the championships. We been practicing for 4 days were ready for the game. The next day was the game. We were the Rabbits vs Eagles. We kicks first in the first time. I was sometimes defense or forwards. This time I was forwards in the mittal. I take the ball. Pass it one of my teammates they kiep running forwards. Until he passed it to me and I try to kick on the gold but I hit the post inted. The other team got the ball. They went to the other side of the field. I had to go back and wait until one of my teammates get the ball. That what they did. I

I had just finished lunch when a group of my classmates decided to start up a game of soccer in the field next to the alligator tanks. I can play soccer. I played when I was like 5, but okay! I’m walking through squishy, muddy grass and thought nothing of it. The boy I really liked at the time starts off the game.

One day last year, I played a soccer game. How two kids slid at me, not knowing what I was going to get myself into that day and how it would change my life. This is a story, of how an injury impacted my dream of becoming a soccer player. In return, that injury shed light in another direction for me.

That night my parents informed me that I liked playing soccer so much that I asked the CIA h to have practice two times a week and they did it. After a couple weeks I keep moving up in age groups and loved playing soccer. It's was at the moment when I was 8 and I had to make a decision of playing baseball or soccer and don't get me wrong it was the hardest decision I had ever made in my life because I loved to play both. The sport I picked was soccer caused I just loved the thrill and the feeling of scoring a goal almost all the

I was never the type of kid to standout in school especially not in the hallway. I was never too tall, never too short, not too scrawny, but the one thing I like to do is make people laugh. Yet even though that was very fun and all I still leave my legacy behind, which as weird, as this sounds, I was the one kid teachers never took seriously, but for the most part I never got that bad of a grade, in middle school(except when it came to 7th grade language arts class).

At the age of ten I was the most energetic, go-lucky, confident girl. I excelled at my beloved sport, soccer. I had been playing since I was just a mere five years old, far longer than the other girls. Playing so long had helped me be at a higher level of skill than most of the other players on my team.

History is written by the victors. Bringing my middle school history lesson on the American Revolution to the dinner table, my brother snarked that I was a sheep for believing that our founding fathers were the most noble and perfect men simply fighting tyranny. A bit embarrassed, but more driven to eventually upstage him, I began questioning every rendition of the facts. I started seeing a clear bias everywhere from CNN to my history textbook. People like packaging the truth into tidy schemes splitting the world into black and white to best serve their interests.

At the age of 7, my mother signed me up to play major league soccer for the local community. It was fun at first, because of the family support and competiveness of the sport. During the summer of 1st grade at Covert Avenue Elementary School in Elmont, New York I would go to the soccer field every other day to practice and play against other teams on the weekends. It was a great experience until I got hit by another player making me unable to play for the upcoming games. The other player slid into my left leg and sprained my ankle. While being in excruciating pain, I was unable to go out to see my friends. I was stuck in my house for a couple weeks, because my mom wanted me to get better. Since she is a strict and concerned Asian mother, I was not able to do any physical activity inside or outside of my home.

Who likes to be woken up early on a Saturday morning by their mom just to be asked if they wanted to join the community soccer team? I was only nine years old when my mom came into my room, kneeled beside my bed, and hugged me as a way to wake me up to ask me if i wanted to join the soccer team. At first I wasn't aware of what was going on, because I was barely waking up and when I did I told her no, because I never saw myself playing soccer. She insisted,“ C’mon I know you’ll be a good soccer player, because ever since you were inside my stomach you use to kick all the time. Don’t you want to be like your dad? I know you like soccer, I know you do. ” Deep inside I knew she was right. i did love soccer and I did want to play, but it was just

I inhaled deeply and smelt the freshly cut grass and the newly painted field that had barely any time to dry. I looked over at my teammate on the far right and nodded signifying that she would receive the ball from the middle player then pass to me. The whistle blew. I sprang into action. I sprinted towards the goal with every ounce of adrenaline I could muster. My teammate passed me the ball exactly like we planned. I dribbled towards the target with my head up, a skill my father always reinforced. My heart began pounding as I ran up to the opposing team's intimidating defense. They ran towards me, trying to overtake the ball from me. I ran as far as I could with the ball until I was surrounded by the defense, then I quickly passed it into the middle. The defense swarmed in the direction of ball as I dashed to the goal. "Pass it! I'm open!" I yelled to my teammate who currently had the ball, another skill my father would be proud of. She passed it across the field, and the defense began running to me. I saw the goal. Time seemed to stop. In that second that seemed like an eternity, it was just me, the ball, and the goal keeper. I looked across the goal to the right hand corner. "Take the shot!" I heard my dad scream from the stands. I collected all my strength and took the shot. My heart throbbed with anticipation as I looked at the ball fly towards the goal.

In year 10 I decided to stop playing soccer, it was an unusual time for me. The standards from grade 8 and 9 were nothing to what I had been facing that year and I didn’t know how to cope. Pressure to do well in school and excel in sports was daunting, my father wanted me to become a medical doctor and a professional soccer player at the same time.

It was a hot summer day at HMS.I was looking at the school’s sports board.I played almost all of the sports up there,football,basketball,and tennis.The one I haven’t played was soccer.I was not very good at soccer but it was worth a try.

I was speechless. Why was my mom making me play soccer? I hated soccer! I wasn’t even good at it. But even though I wanted to play baseball, deep down I knew that playing soccer would be the right thing to do. I had been

I do not remember much from when I was five years old, but I will never forget Saturday mornings playing soccer in the playground behind my elementary school in a small program run by parents in the neighborhood. My dad was not around much during the week due to a very time-consuming job, so the weekends he got to spend with me and my sister was very important to him. Allie, my sister who is two years older than me, is the one who got my family into soccer. My dad signed up to be a coach for her kinderkickers team and then to be a coach for her town team. I would play with my sister’s team as well as my own because my dad always brought me along to their practices and games. I liked playing goalie and defense and I was good; at least as good

I continued to play soccer in my youth and actually developed to become the captain in my club team as well for my other teams. My mother was there; every game, every practice, every loss, to guide me along the way. In the off-season she would take me to random camps to make me a better player. 6 years later , I had to go through surgery and I had to give up the one thing I truly loved. Wanting nothing to do with soccer, I